Everyone thinks their own fantasies are the weirdest, because they’ve imagined them in such intense detail for so long.
Perhaps it’s because we never really get to look inside the heads of others, and see what really lurks inside their equally filthy imaginations.
Perhaps it’s because our fantasies are fuelled by such powerful emotions.
Perhaps it’s because our fantasies feel so transgressive, when we’re usually so well-behaved.
Perhaps it’s because our fantasies are echoes from deep inside ourselves, which we only ever glimpse as shadows.
Until there comes a moment, perhaps after you’ve read enough stories, that you realise that maybe your fantasises aren’t actually that weird after all.
That your fantasies bring you immense satisfaction.
That your fantasies are sources of inexpressible joy.